


it's not pretty anymore (beautiful red)

by Ive_never_read_fluff



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26910742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ive_never_read_fluff/pseuds/Ive_never_read_fluff
Summary: Roman loved seeing his beautiful red that stained his arm, Roman loved seeing something so pretty and knowing that he did it to himself.Not only is it pretty, it's a testament to his emotions.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	it's not pretty anymore (beautiful red)

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MASSIVE GLORIFICATION/ ROMANTICIZATION OF SELFHARM 
> 
> (how he thinks is terrible and should not be purposely replicated, it is not a good example of a healthy mindset. please, if you think like this, it's okay to get help, you deserve it, and people will care about you no matter what.)

As twisted as it was, Roman loved seeing what he could do to himself. 

Loved seeing the beautiful red liquid rolling down and staining his arms a light pink color.

Loved seeing the cloth (he chooses white cloths on purpose, so he can see the red staining onto it) fill up with color, and the slight stinging pain that came with the rough material skidding over his fresh cuts. 

Loved seeing the droplets of blood rise and become streams of red flowing down his arms. 

Loved when he cut just the right amount for it to be white for about two seconds before filling in with the beautiful color. 

Red was his color after all.

It makes sense to see it on Roman, even if it's blood and not his sash. 

He loved when the cuts would stop bleeding only to be opened up violently again by him scrubbing at them, just to see the color again.

He loved when the blood was different shades, like the first part of the cut was a bright red, and the middle and end was a dark, scarlet red. 

He loved watching his arm be covered in redness. 

He loved knowing that he did this to himself, he made those glorious colors, he made the blood build up and flow over his arm, falling onto the floor and leaving it's color behind.

He loved when it rolled down in thick clumps (that's not the right word to describe it, but it really doesn't matter, not when he's too focused on the intoxicating shades of red) and he could feel the weight of it, the weight of his issues spilling out and turning into something beautiful. 

Roman loved that he can see his pain, in the form of red liquid, blood, flowing over and leaving a permanent mark. 

A permanent testament to the fact that he was not okay, that he was hurting, a physical marking stated what he feels. It'd be there forever, and it's beautiful, and his pain would be there forever too. 

Roman viewed it as art sometimes, maybe creative expression. 

~~-Not that he has the fucking brains to be creative, how much of a fucking baby ass pussy does someone have to be to want to do this to themselves? And to call it "creative".. what a fucking idiot. Roman, of course, because everyone else but him is valid in their struggles, and deserve help, because they are good people, and they are cared about and valued.~~

Roman hated when it came time to wash them off. He'd considered leaving the blood on to dry further and perhaps it'd be harder to get off so he really couldn't of he wanted to, but he doesn't particularly like the feeling of it on his skin, pulling and making any and all movements basically agony, and plus he heard somewhere that it could lead to infections, and infections weren't pretty.

He always felt a little sad that he has to wash them off, clean them, because he's erasing his beautiful work, and his arm looks so plain and empty and bare without the blood taking up all the space, and the cuts look very purple after washing them.

And purple wasn't his color. 

It was Virgil's, and he'd be damned if he stole another one if Virgil's things. First, he started being anxious and uptight about everything (not that anyone else would see that, but to Roman it's still very obvious) then he started taking on mannerisms of Virgil, and now he's coming for the rest of his brand? Yeah, no, he's good. 

Plus, it held a bit of pink in it, and pink just wasn't really what he was going for. He wanted red. Red like pain, agony, hurt, defeat, fighting, tragedy, unfortunate, _blood_. Not purple, or pink. 

He always wants to cut again after washing his previous cuts, but the stinging and stiffness in his arm reminds him that he probably shouldn't. 

One day, he will though. He will cut, and cut, and cut, and keep on cutting until the only thing he can see is red, red everywhere, beautiful, beautiful red, and it will be the last thing he ever sees.

Red. 

One day, but today is not that day. He's okay with being alive right now. He's almost perfectly content with seeing that beautiful red in moderation, small bits, not enough to kill him or even cause serious physical health issues. 

But he still hates it, when he has to wash his artwork off, because he wants it to be pretty. He needs it to be pretty.

But when he washes it off, it's not pretty anymore.


End file.
